Cold Fire
by Lady Feylene
Summary: Harry turns his back on everyone, deciding the future is bleak. He falls far and hard...(Slash)


****

Disclaimer: No mine! I don't own them, and I don't pretend to.

****

Warning: Slash. Male on male sexual content. You have been warned. Two men, having sex. If you don't like it, don't read it, read it, don't bitch.

****

Dedication: This is for Fox Mummy, who requested a Harry-Whore fic. And that the pairing was Snape/Harry. Here it is! It's not what I expected it to be, but I like it.

****

Author's Note: I was in a foul, foul mood today and this was the outcome. It's not a happy fic. It's rather dark and gritty and cold. And there's some character death, but it's only talked about. Oh! And find the Hidden Pairing. I hint at it...Enjoy!

****

Cold Fire

How had he come to this, he wondered, leaning casually against the chipped and fading street sign. Where had things gone wrong? Had it been something he did, that brought him to this? No. It had been the things he didn't do, couldn't do, wasn't allowed to do. They had never given him the free rein he had known he needed, had held him back. And he had failed, when the time came. He hadn't been able to do what they all expected of him, and he had failed.

It wasn't so bad, he decided, looking back on the years that had followed. It wasn't as if a great darkness had fallen over the land. Only for a few days, really. They had died fast and many in those few days, though. So many. He couldn't even remember the names of them all. He had lost friends, lovers, those he held close as family. And the ones that were left, he had not been able to face.

That was how he came to selling himself on a street corner, far away from anything that reminded him of his old life. A new name, a new life, and with luck, a chance to forget. To get the screams out of his mind. No sixteen year old should ever have to hear screams like that. Even now, at twenty, they still gave him nightmares. And they were half the reason his verdine eyes were dull and listless.

"Got the time?" A passerby asked.

"It's late." He said, letting his head loll onto his shoulder to look at the pretty young girl who had spoken. "Probably too late."

"For what?" she asked, and her small laugh was like a bell.

"For all of us." He said, before lighting up a cigarette. The girl was not laughing anymore. She walked away quickly, leaving him alone again.

Most passers by left him alone. Their eyes would travel over him, taking in shaggy black hair, lifeless green eyes, pale skin and a slim body. Sometimes they would peak an interest, but looking into those eyes too long made them change their mind. They were dead eyes, more empty windows then anything else.

"What are you staring at?" He asked a young couple, out for a late night stroll. They crossed the street quickly, whispering to one another and avoiding those dead eyes.

"Here again, are we?"

He knew the voice well. He didn't even acknowledge it, there was no point. He'd heard what it had to say before, and didn't want to hear it again.

"It will do no good."

"I don't want to hear it." He took a long drag of the cigarette, eyes narrowing.

"I know."

"So shut up."

"I wouldn't talk to me like that, if I were you."

"You're not my professor anymore, I can talk to you however I want."

"Quite glad to see your attitude has improved."

"Shove it, Snape." He pushed himself off of the street sign, sneakered feet making dull sounds on the concrete.

"Perhaps I should." 

"What?" He stopped, turning to look into cruelly amused black eyes. 

"Perhaps I should 'shove it' as you so eloquently put it." Arms folded over a slim chest, and he decided Snape looked like a raven.

"Fine." He shrugged, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his tight black jeans. "I know I don't care."

"I think you should." Snape's lips were cruel, pulled back in a twisted smile. 

"Ah, hell." He swore, spitting. "Fine. But you're gonna have to pay."

"I wouldn't dream of not." Snape's eyes were glittering darkly, and they looked deep in his sharp, sallow face.

"You got a place?" He asked, eyeing Snape up and down. He had had worse come to pay for his bed, but he had had better as well.

"I know of one, yes." 

The walk was short, and neither spoke. It was a chilly night, and the young man decided that a small stay in a warm bed was worth the unpleasant task of bedding his once teacher. 

"This?" He looked up skeptically at the crumbling building, one eyebrow raised.

"Yes. I keep a flat here." Snape opened the door, and led the way up a narrow staircase to a small room. It was obvious the room was not lived in, simply stayed in. There was no personality, only sterility.

"How do you want to do this?" He asked, hands again going to the pockets of his jeans.

"In the usual manner." Snape said, locking the door. "Remove your clothing."

He complied, stripping off shoes, tank top and jeans, kicking them aside and standing naked in the small room. It could have been warmer, he decided, shivering slightly. 

"And it would do you good to wipe that sullen expression off of your face."

"You're out of luck there." He snapped, wrapping his arms around his slim frame. His skin was prickling in the cold, and he shuddered.

"It had been years, Potter."

"So?"

"It is time to bury the past."

"We're only burying one thing tonight, and it's not the past." he snapped, deciding to charge double. He wasn't paid to endure verbal abuse.

"You're far too crude."

"I can be worse. Are we going to do this or not?"

"You can't make much money. A mouth like that."

"You don't know what my mouth can do." He closed the distance between them, deciding he was tired of talking, and dropped to his knees, his hand snaking down inside of Snape's pants. He undid them quickly, dropping them just enough. He was old hat at this, the things that required him on his knees. He remained like that for a few moments, and was pleased to discover all verbal abuse stopped.

"I stand corrected." Snape said, tilting his head.

"Good. You want me to finish like this, or did you want to screw me?"

"Your vocal aptitude astounds me." Snape said dryly. "Lie down."

It was quick and blank, business and nothing more. It was a sort of cold fire, a parody of intimacy. Sharp and animal, there was no love, no caring. But he was used to that, he lived it every night. His life was a cold fire, a mockery of what it should have been. When Snape finished, he rolled away and lay on his back. The young man lit up another cigarette, wondering if he ought to feel cheap and used, but felt only mildly hungry.

"Good for you?" He asked, out of routine not any real desire to know.

"In so far as purchased intimacy goes, yes." Snape nodded. "Now that that is out of the way, it is time to bury the past."

"No, it isn't. What I do with the past is my choice."

"It was not your fault." Snape said, doing up his trousers. "No one could have stopped him, not then, not there. He was too powerful."

"I don't want to hear it!" He leapt off the bed, storming to where his clothes lay in a small heap, picking through them to dress himself.

"But you must! You may have turned your back on us, but we still fight. And we have a chance yet. But..."

"I'm not going back." He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to be there at all. He regretted this. He wanted to be gone. He could feel teh anger rising in him, and he wanted to lash out. How could he dare to ask him to come back? After what had happened. After he had failed, after he had allowed evil to take root. How could he go back?

"You are."

"No, I'm not." He began pulling on his clothing roughly, thinking only of getting out. 

"You have little choice. I have been sent to retrieve you, and I will."

"I thought you came to fuck me." his green eyes flashed, something they had not done in years.

"That was simply a pleasant distraction." Snape smiled cruelly again. "Dumbledore sent me to fetch you."

"Well you can tell him I'm not coming back." He tried to pull his shoe on, but stumbled and found himself on the floor, his backside hurting.

"No." Snape rose, taking the young man by the arm. "You must put the past to rest. You must finish what you started."

"I can't!" He ripped his arm away, tears hot behind his eyes. "I can't face them again...don't you get it?"

"Face who?" Snape sneered. "Mr. Weasley is more concerned for you then his own self preservation, and Lupin is nearly wasting away from concern. On a side note, I would appreciate if you did not mention our little encounter to him. I'd rather not deal with that. If you fear bad blood, your fears are without foundation."

"I let them die!" He yelled, the tears leaking out of his eyes. "What about Hermione? Or Professor McGonagall? Or...Sirius..." he choked a sob. He could still see the broken and bleeding form of his godfather, eyes staring unseeing at the sky.

"Black?" Snape barked a small laugh. "Perhaps if you hadn't run quite so quickly, you would have heard. Black isn't dead, he was simply injured beyond repair. He is an invalid, suffering paralysis, but he is alive."

"Hardly." He sniffled, trying hard to hold onto his rage.

"You are returning. if your failure bothers you so badly, then now is the time to repair whatever damage you think you have done. Destroy Voldemort, and be done with it."

"If I couldn't do it then, why do you think I can do it now? Look at me!"

"You are the same spoiled, self righteous brat you always were. You could not defeat him then because he was too strong. He is weak now. You will be the victor, should you challenge him again."

"Fine." He rose, dashing away hot tears. He didn't want to fight, and Snape would not leave until he agreed. "But if I fail again, then it's on you, do you understand?"

"Fine." Snape shrugged. "I've enough death heaped on my conscience that more will not matter. There is no time to gather your things."

"There would have been, if you didn't decided you wanted some tale." He said vindictively. Snape raised his hand to strike, but thought better of it.

"Quite."

He ran a hand through untidy black hair, more habit then a true attempt at grooming. He put on his shoes, while Snape watched him with hawk like eyes. He would fail again, he knew that as surely as he knew his own name. He was too weak, and he didn't care enough. But maybe this time he would at least die, so he wouldn't hear the screaming anymore.

Rising to his feet, he followed Snape into the cold night, and into the colder future.

~~~~~~~~~


End file.
